


Take What You Need

by stratumgermanitivum



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Nipple Play, Nipple Torture, Nursing Kink, but no lactation or infantilism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:47:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26074414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/pseuds/stratumgermanitivum
Summary: “Will.”Hannibal hesitates in the doorway. Will knows immediately what he wants; it’s the only thing that’s ever given him pause. He’d worried about scaring Will off, making him uncomfortable.Out of all the absolutely bizarre bullshit Hannibal has put him through over the years, Will finds it almost funny thatthisis what he’s embarrassed about.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 13
Kudos: 297





	Take What You Need

**Author's Note:**

> Someone mentioned Hannibal's breastfeeding kink in the novels on the Strats-and-Whiskey CuriousCat. It's not Whiskey's thing but it's DEFINITELY mine and i wrote this in two hours don't judge me

“Will.”

Hannibal hesitates in the doorway. Will knows immediately what he wants; it’s the only thing that’s ever given him pause. He’d worried about scaring Will off, making him uncomfortable.

Out of all the absolutely bizarre bullshit Hannibal has put him through over the years, Will finds it almost funny that _this_ is what he’s embarrassed about.

“Yeah, baby?”

A smile tugs at Hannibal’s lips. Of the two of them, Will is more prone to pet names. Darling. Sweetheart. They’re sarcastic more often than not, but occasionally Will delivers them with the utmost affection.

Hannibal’s only ever ‘baby’ on the nights Will indulges him.

“Can I?” Hannibal asks, though the answer must be clear by now.

Will sets down the book he’s been reading. He arranges the pillows around the headboard, propping himself into a sitting position and bracing his arm among them. With his other hand, he pats his thigh. “Come here, baby.”

Hannibal crawls into bed, letting Will guide him, draped over Will’s lap, and cradled against his chest. He fingers the buttons of Will’s sleep shirt with obvious longing.

Will has never told him he started wearing these pajamas just for the way Hannibal responds to them on nights like this. He lets Hannibal think he wore him down with his desire to match, instead.

“Rough day?” Will asks sympathetically, tugging the first of the buttons free. Hannibal watches it with rapt attention, his lips already parted. He nods, wordless already in his eagerness.

Will had been surprised by how easily Hannibal sank under for this. In their everyday lives, he is not submissive. In fact, Will has born bruises in the shape of his hands before, from how thoroughly Hannibal loves him.

But there are days, moments like this, where Hannibal _craves_. And when he does, he falls so very quickly.

A second button. Hannibal licks his lips, as though starving. His eyes follow Will’s fingers down the path they trail. Will likes to draw this moment out, to have Hannibal desperate by the time they begin.

They get different things out of this. It’s not sexual for Hannibal, but he doesn’t mind if Will gets enjoyment from it. And Will very much does; his sensitivity is something Hannibal has always been fond of toying with.

Finally, Will undoes the last button, parting his shirt to reveal his chest. Hannibal makes a sound, aching.

“Go ahead,” Will says, shifting until Hannibal is perfectly positioned. “I know what you need, baby.”

Hannibal’s tongue comes first, a quick, rough lick. Just enough to get Will’s nipple peaked, to give Hannibal something to seek out with his mouth. Hannibal seals his lips around the bud, and the first suck is sharp, a harsh tug.

The first time, Hannibal had been tentative, so hesitant that it had tickled, and Will had squirmed beneath his weight. Now, he was impatient. He knew exactly what he wanted, and how much he was allowed to take.

No teeth, or else Will was free to assume they were playing an entirely different game.

“Ah!” Will brings his hand up to cradle Hannibal’s skull, fingers twined through his hair as he sucks. Sometimes Will tries to read through this-Hannibal can go for well over an hour on particularly hard days- but for now, he wants to enjoy the feeling.

Hannibal hums, a sound of pure contentment. He loves to be touched throughout, a hand through his hair and down over the nape of his neck, a constant petting.

The first few minutes are a feast. Hannibal’s lips and tongue move in clumsy, overwhelming motions that have Will gasping.

Eventually, he finds his rhythm, and the motion settles into something more bearable.

For now.

Will presses an awkward kiss to the top of Hannibal’s head. “There you go. Take as much as you like.”

Hannibal offers another soft hum. His eyes are closed, and Will knows he’s only barely taking in anything Will says. Will picks up his book.

Will’s focus is shot, the rhythmic suction sending ripples down his spine, but it will be a while before he can have any relief. Besides, Hannibal does best if Will treats this as a completely ordinary occurrence. He holds the book open, reading the same lines over and over again, biting his lip when Hannibal loses his grip and gives a particularly hard suck to get it back.

“Easy, baby,” Will tells him. “Gentle.” There’s a weakness to his voice; his cock is hard against Hannibal’s side, and every time Hannibal adjusts his position, he rubs against it.

Will allows this for as long as he can tolerate, his breath coming in uneven whimpers, before he gives Hannibal’s hair a gentle tug. “Come on, sweetheart.”

Hannibal grumbles in displeasure, stubbornly attached. Will tugs sharper this time, a warning. “Time to give that side a break,” He says. “You can have more of it later, if you’re still hungry.”

Will, of course, can’t offer Hannibal any actual sustenance, but the words always seem to please him. Hannibal parts reluctantly from Will’s chest, allowing Will to guide him over his lap until he’s sprawled in the opposite direction. Will has barely guided him to his other nipple before Hannibal is latching on, fiercer now that he’s been awoken. Will closes his eyes and sucks in a hiss of a breath. Hannibal is always grumpy when asked to switch, unhappy to be moved and roused from his blissful state, but Will can’t bear the lopsided feeling.

When Hannibal’s torment settles down, and he begins to drift and suckle lazily once more, Will dares to open his eyes. His chest is red, a hickey that extends well past his areola, the skin tender and aching in the chill of the air. His nipple remains peaked, and Will knows if he dares to touch that it will be tender and sore.

Will sucks in another breath and tries to get himself under control.

Hannibal nurses for another half an hour. Will doesn’t move him again; he’s balanced now, and another shift will only irritate Hannibal. Still, he’s oversensitive and shuddering when Hannibal’s lips and tongue finally slow, then detach.

Hannibal has fallen asleep like this before, but today, he’s still somewhat alert. He offers Will a sleepy smile.

“Did you get what you needed, baby?” Will asks. “You can have more.”

He means it. As much as his whole body is tingling, begging for more touch, Will would never make Hannibal stop sooner than he needs. Hannibal can nurse the whole damn night if it makes him feel better. Will could probably sleep like this if he absolutely _had_ to, though he’s sure his dreams would be… intense.

“Full,” Hannibal murmurs, his smile knowing and wicked, even with how heavily-lidded his eyes are. “Your turn.”

Will’s hands are shaking as he guides Hannibal to lay down on the bed, sprawled contentedly across the mattress. “You’re sure?” He asks, already reaching for the drawstring of his pants.

“Get what you need,” Hannibal mimics, eyes closing in contentment as he relaxes amongst the pillows.

Will is over him the second he has permission, shoving Hannibal’s shirt up as he straddles his hips. Will lowers his pants only enough to free his cock, fisting it frantically as he watches Hannibal’s smug, satisfied expression.

It only takes a moment; Will has been ready since the switch. He comes, gasping, marking Hannibal as Hannibal has marked him, across his chest while Hannibal sighs in pure bliss.

Will collapses beside him with a gasp, nuzzling against Hannibal’s shoulder. “You’re going to ruin me one day,” he complains, but only halfheartedly. He shrugs his shirt off, haphazardly wiping sticky fluid from Hannibal’s stomach.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Hannibal mumbles, already nearly gone.”

They sleep solidly, soundly. They always do, after a session.

But when Will wakes, it is to one hand pinning his wrists above his head, while the other tweaks a nipple cruelly. He cries out in shock and pain, arching off the bed.

“Good morning,” Hannibal says with a wicked smile, dropping a pair of nipple clamps onto Will’s sternum. Will’s sadist is back. “I think I’d like to play this morning.”

Will draws his knees up to cradle Hannibal’s hips. “Go ahead,” he gasps. “Take what you need.”


End file.
